The Detective, The Doctor, And Zombies?
by bulletproofsince1999
Summary: Yup, you heard me, zombies invade London. And who's left to fight them? Why John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, of course. It will be packed with adventure, love and the best!, horror, and blood and guts and swearing and violence and everything any zombie story has that everyone loves! Enjoy! And rated M for a reason!
1. Introdution

**Short, sweet, and to a point that you will have to wait to read... Mwahahaha! No, seriously, R&R? **

* * *

The Detective, The Doctor And… Zombies?

Introduction… Of Sorts…

I, one morning, was simply sitting on my comfy, sorta, stool, and Molly was by my side while I peered through the glass of my microscope and this man came barging through the door, yelling at me about something to do with death?

I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, as I was ignoring the stupid blond and… bloody man. I finally looked to him and snapped, "Stop yelling at me! repeat yourself, slowly," I demanded. He got all flustered and simply clenched his hands into fists.

Then I proceeded to cross my arms over my chest expectantly, as he said something that changed my lovely morning to a Hell I never expected…

* * *

I was to be sent home today after working at the hospital I had taken a job at after Afghanistan. I was honorably discharged and, I was at first happy to leave the military once and for all. But then I got home, and I have to say, I miss the excitement.

Not exactly the death, and the blood, and the screams and cries of anguish. But the blood pumping through my own veins, the bullets flying and the feeling as though I myself, am flying past the world and somewhere else doesn't exist at that moment in time. I wish I had that feeling again. Almost like I could die any second, and for some reason, I enjoy that.

But, I was coming home from work, hailed a cab and everything, and that wish came true in the worst of ways…

* * *

Molly stood by Sherlock's side early that Monday morning, blowing off everything else to be by that side of his. She adored him, little did he care. He knew, but he didn't care enough to let her know he did. She knew he only thought of her as a friend, or possibly less...

She was crushed for that fact, then again, he was a good friend himself. She had more than once vented out on him, and he always listens. He doesn't always reply, but she can tell he's listening when he looks to her with some kind of look she always understands somehow.

So she let out a bored sigh as she handed him things she knew he'd need. She always knew what he wanted before he even said it, or gestured for it. And today was no different when she handed him a few slides and gloves and such.

He never broke his gaze as he took things from her and only once gave a tight smile that was half assed. She flattened her lips in realization that this will never change, but she didn't mind. Then again, she was very wrong about that assumption. But you know what they say about assuming… the word is literally spelled to say Ass, U, Me, as in, assume something and it makes you both look like fucking idiots.

Then this man burst through the two doors, caked in blood that obviously only ten percent of was his. Sherlock at first ignored him, and Molly was surprised he did so. But then the blond was yelling at him, and he finally looked up, irritated.

Molly hated that look on him, it made him look like he was woken from sleep, and not in a good way. But that day, everything changed…

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**Reviews? Suggestions? And I promise , the chapters will be much longer... **


	2. One

One

I woke that morning to the same boring and very small flat I could afford with my job. I sighed and ruffled my curls as I shuffled to the kitchen and started making coffee. It's habit I never got rid of, unlike my smoking habits. And even with the patches, it's not much anymore.

I plunked two sugar cubes in my cup as the creamy black liquid flooded it. I sniffed the black lovely liquid and sipped carefully, humming quietly in contentment. Today was going to be a good day. Lestrade doesn't have a case for me yet, but I have experiments in the lab, with Molly.

God, Molly, she is really an amazing person. She deals with my shit, and she gets nothing in return. And she asks no questions regarding my actions, she simply observes and answers her own questions. And she's not as stupid as many of the other fuck heads I deal with daily.

When she stands by my side, I know I will never be annoyed, or bored for that matter. She sometimes rants on about her emotions and sometimes I make comments, or just give looks that she understands.

There was once when she cried on me, and I made her laugh. But that was a long time ago, and she hasn't had much to be sad for lately.

So, this is me, walking out the door and popping up my collar against the sweeping London winds, as I call a cab and recite my favourite address in the whole of London. This morning was the same, not boring, but not exciting. Although, it's these kinds of mornings I like.

Not the best, but better than the really boring ones where I have absolutely nothing to do. But this morning will be nice. I looked at the streets floating away as the wheels took me away from my flat, and I smiled.

But the smile quickly faded as I realized that it wasn't for a good reason, just randomly. So, what's the point in keeping it up? There wasn't one…

* * *

Oh God, I'm running and the bullets fly past me and I land on my face on the cold hard ground. No, no, no, no, keep going Watson! Get your ass up and fucking run! They'll kill you if you don't get up and run!...

I woke sweating from the dream I barely remember. I hate this, I have these apparently vivid dreams, but I barely remember them. It's almost as if my body wants to make me look like a fucking idiot when I talk to people about my nightmares.

Especially my therapist, she thinks it strange as well. Ugh, I pulled my legs out from under the covers and right by my side is my walking stick. I hate the blasted thing. Why do I need it? I don't know, but I can't get rid of it.

Therapist says it's psychosomatic, and I shouldn't really need it, And I honestly have no idea why, but I need it. I know, a bullet wound to the shoulder and now I can't walk right, it makes no sense, but my brain insists I need assistance.

'Maybe that's what it is,' I think as I pulled the walking stick to my side and stand briefly to walk to my small kitchen and make coffee best as I can with leaning on the counter to use both of my hands. I continued thinking. 'Maybe it's the fact that no one's here to take care of me, and I need the stick to support me like no one else does.'

It's a thought. But a pretty stupid thought, isn't it? I sighed, I don't know anymore. I have another hour before I need to get my ass to work to save more lives and whatnot. At least I get to see Sarah, she's a good thought.

I huff and sit in my kitchen chair and sip and think about her. Her hair, her eyes, her everything. Dunno why I like her so much, maybe because she's a really good friend. But I'm too stupid to ask her out to do anything. Too stupid and cowardly.

I may be brave when it comes to getting your heart to beat again, but when it comes to women, I can't do a fucking thing but stare and get shaky. I used to be good with the ladies, until I got older and started to lose that spark I had when I was younger.

Or perhaps it's the war? I'm not sure, but I'm just not as good as I used to be. The last girl suggested I go for a guy, maybe then I'll be satisfied. It had hurt, and I never took it into consideration. But I also have no idea what that bitch's problem was.

She asked for anything and everything, especially from me, and it was annoying and I told her so. Then she goes off on this tangent about how she felt there was something off about us, and that we should take a break. Little did she know, I wasn't going back, never did.

I was sad for the loss of human contact, but not for the loss of her begging and sometimes nagging. But Sarah's not like that. She's nice and considerate and tells me if something's bothering her that I'm doing and she doesn't like. And actually, vice versa.

We might as well be together already, but that _question_ is what leaves me in the friend zone. I would just go for it, but I don't know her answer and it bothers me. I finished off my cup of coffee, and washed out the cup, but didn't put it away, as I never do. I placed it on the counter for future use and went to try to write more to that stupid blog.

But there was nothing interesting to write about. Except Sarah, and I don't think people would care to hear a explanation about how extravagant a certain girl is. They want adventure or drama, and I can't give them that. I can only give them depression and one highlight that keeps me alive. Well, two, but whatever.

Needless to say, I had nothing. So I gave up and went for a short walk before I had to fill my lungs with the smell of a job instead of some fresh air. That's another thing, if I had the chance, I'd stay outside. That was the one thing I loved about being abroad.

It was hot, but at least I was outside, and not stuffed in some building all day. I dressed in my jeans and a jumper that was fluffy and comfy, and slipped my jacket over it, and I was out the door with that stupid walking stick by my side, clicking to remind me of my old friend Loneliness.

I look to my watch, and decided to give up on a walk now, and just get to work. I am simply one of the children's doctors, but I love the surprise of the parents' faces when I walk in. The stupid fucking walking stick throws them off, and then I go through my motions, and they just look at me as if they expected someone stupid.

I just look at them, like, _'Yeah, who's stupid now?'_ of course, I never say that, but I love thinking it. And the children just love the idea of their doctor having an old man's instrument. Oh well, at least I get to love the kids. I've always loved kids.

And speaking of the little munchkins, "Tommy!" he hugs me and wrap my arm around his shoulders, as he is quite short. "How are you today?" I asked, kneeling on one knee as best as I could, and his parents just look at me with stars in their eyes.

o0o

Somehow, I sit at my desk, and nod off around lunch break. Luckily, Sarah had come in, and giggling, she shook me awake gently. "Hey," she smiled.

I returned the smile, still drowsy, "Hi," I looked up as she sat on the edge of my desk. And in this sleepy state, I asked, "Do you wanna get lunch together?" and then I woke completely, realizing what I had just done.

"I thought you'd never ask," neither did I! But I did, and she just basically said yes. "C'mon," she took my hand and I grabbed my coat as we walked out of my office for the half hour we have for lunch.

We were strolling, as she said she knew a place five minutes down the sidewalk, and her fingers were finally laced in mine, and we rounded a corner to the most unexpected thing. Someone was running, no friggin' sprinting, towards us.

And I finally looked around, and the streets were almost completely deserted. Where was everyone? And why was this man running for us? But he had something about him, he was just… off.

He looked sick as he stopped right in front of us, "Can I help you?" Sarah asked, squeezing my hand slightly as her other extended. Something was definitely off about this man. He seemed distant as he said nothing but growled, like an animal.

That was when he lunged and the extended hand Sarah had put out, became his meal! He bit her! She screamed as I kicked out at his knee, and was surprised when it didn't just knock him over, but his leg broke in half! I swear I didn't kick that hard, and yet, it came apart as if I had kicked at snow.

But he made no noise except for an annoyed groan. Sarah pulled off her scarf and wrapped it around her hand as we ignored the man crawling for her still, and we rushed her back to hospital. As I held her close, the blood seeped through her thin green scarf and to my plaid shirt, and soon they were both soaked.

We burst through the door and the few doctors left stood in surprise as I placed her on one of the emergency patients' beds. I went digging through the supplies as Sarah pointed out something through her tears, "John?" she asked, panting through tears.

"Yes, love?" I answered as I removed the pathetic and now soaked scarf and replaced it was a bandage.

"Your- Ah!- walking thing," she tried to get out and I was confused as I removed the bandage to try to get a look at that wound itself, but it was gushing, and I'd have to wait. She finished, "It's gone," she realized, and so did I.

I tried to smile at that, but couldn't with her injured like this. Another doctor had come over and said it would need stitches, "No shit," she complained through more tears. I rolled my eyes and again, attempted to remove the bandages to get a good look, and I was able to for a moment.

He had taken a good chunk from in between her thumb and forefinger, and it was bleeding again as I picked her up, "Hold it," I ordered and carried her back to one of the better spaces that had things for wounds and the stitches to put them back together.

I knew this would hurt her, but I had to do this as I set her down again and she winced through the slow, but steady tears. She groaned when she saw how much blood there was. But it was gradually getting slower as she was paling.

I grabbed everything and she cried out, trying to stay strong for this, but wasn't successful, and I can understand why. Never been bitten like this, but I had to stitch up my own bullet wound, and it hurts like hell, I know that for sure.

But she bit back more moans and groans as I finished. But what happened next, I wasn't prepared for in the least…

o0o

A few hours afterwards, when we were lounging, as I had found pain pills for her to take and found that most of the doctors hadn't returned from lunch. I started to wonder what the hell was going on. I told her I was going to go find out, and I tried. But no one was around, not even the nurse always at the front desk.

So when I went back to her, of course I expected her to be surprised with this. But she just sat there, with a blank look about her. "Sarah?" I touched her shoulder, and suddenly she was on the ground, crying out in pain.

'What did I do?!' She was rocking with sobs and complained about a head ache, and I didn't know what to do! What was happening! "Sarah?! Love, what's wrong?!"

She couldn't answer as the tears she cried turned to crimson. I was so afraid, I tried to get her to tell me what was hurting so I could try to figure out what was going on. But all she did was sob, what was now blood and soon she started coughing.

She coughed more fucking blood! into her hands, and I was confused and worried so much that I was actually shaking. Her eyes got wide as she saw the blood on her hands and she gripped my shirt, and through the migraine, she said, "I thought it was impossible," she cried into my shirt and more blood was everywhere, but I didn't care.

"What was impossible?" I tried as I held her and she coughed up more and her breathing picked up and she was hyperventilating. But I had little time before she passed out, cold. "Sarah! No, don't you dare! Wake up!" but it was no use, as her heart stopped and she stilled.

And what else was I to do but sob into her hair? But she shot up suddenly, and when I looked to her, she had the same thing the man bit her had. She was pale, and sickly as she had an absent look about her eyes. And when she lunged for me, I was out.

I picked myself up and ran for the doors. I didn't think this was possible outside of books and movies, but here it was, and now I was the idiot running from it. I ran down the sidewalk, and there was more of them!

I turned a corner, and another, and I had no idea where I was going when I ended up in a building with a hall and murmurs of voices and not moaning in pain or want. I split the huge doors open and there I found a man and a woman.

She was laughing and he was faintly smiling, but that faded as he ignored me for the microscope under his eyes and hers widened. I yelled at him, and her eyes got bigger. I ranted about the things outside and how they should be elsewhere and not here.

But he simply ordered me to, "Stop yelling at me! Repeat yourself, slowly," and I get frustrated. I clench my bloody fists.

And through clenched teeth, I say, "There are fucking zombies outside," I point to the doors, "and you're in here flirting as people are dying!"

* * *

**Yup, so how was that?**


	3. Two

Two

I stared at him, hard. My face contorted to disbelief as he stood pointing at the door behind himself. I stole a glance at Molly, who stood shaking, but not moving her feet to try to confirm anything this man claimed. I stood from the stool, and got closer, deducing everything about this man that there was to offer. At first, I didn't believe there were zombies outside, but then I looked at this blond.

Afghanistan or Iraq? I couldn't tell, but he was a military man, Army by the looks of his build, and his attitude. Caring when he wants to be, and currently hiding his trauma from having his significant other bitten, as that's their blood all over him. I wanted to find more, but I'd have to have an item of his to do so, and if this is real, I have no time for that.

So I cleared my throat, and said, "Molly," she finally squeaked out a 'yes?', "What kind do you think they are?" I asked, referring to the zombies.

She shuffled closer and stood to my shoulder as she said in a low voice because that was all she could manage, "I don't know, why don't you ask the man standing in front of you?" she suggested as the blond simply stood with his fists curled and his stare spoke of death.

"He doesn't like seem to like me very much," I admit. But then the man caught onto the fact that I was believing him, and the color returned to his knuckles as he calmed.

"You," he eyed me, "actually believe me?" he stepped closer to try to make sure I was really here. So he think he's dreaming. Logical assumption, I would think so as well. But real life hurts a lot more than any nightmare I can make up. Usually… But anyway.

"Yes, what's there not to believe? You obviously have been through a lot as your girlfriend turned and that's her blood," I lazily assumed it was a girlfriend as my fingers gestured to his clothing, "and when she tried to eat you, you ran and now look where are," I slid my hands in my pockets as I waited for him to say something about me being an arse.

But he let his jaw drop, and then he snapped it shut as my brows rose slightly at what he was about to say, "Sorry?" he asked.

"I just said-" I was about to explain it again.

"No," he cut me off, "how did you know that?" he had tears forming as I instantly felt guilty… wait, I feel guilty for hurting someone? Since when?

"As ever, people see, but do not observe," I said as I let loose the other deductions I had made while he had stared at me.

His lips tugged at the corners as he heard all the things coming from my mouth and I instantly stopped, thinking I had said something wrong. But when I asked if I did, he simply said, "No, that was. Fantastic," he smiled through the two tears that dripped.

"Well I- you think so?" I was going to defend myself as usual, but he had praised me instead of telling me to go away or to mind my own business.

"Yes, it was extraordinary. It was quite," he paused to gulp back more tears, "extraordinary," and his lip quivered as he let more fall. Molly was about to comfort him as she always does when she sees someone crying or angry, when I held her back with an arm. I observed him as he looked to the floor and saw the tears hitting it.

"May I," I wasn't sure. Again, what was with this sudden change in what I do? So I stared over, "May I suggest you use my shoulder as one to lean on?" I asked, trying to keep it professional. But when he hugged me, and got blood all over me in the process, I felt all warm and tingly.

Was this what was supposed to happen when a person hugs another. Well, he is quite warm, so I guess that could be it…

* * *

I could feel him hesitate as I wrapped my arms around his neck and my burning tears hit his shoulder and I knew the blood was getting all over him now. I didn't care as I needed to hide my face. but he eventually wrapped his long arms around my back and I squeezed closer, trying to make sure he couldn't see my red eyes and puffy cheeks at all.

I'm truly a mess when I cry, which is why I usually don't. But the way he had made and said those accusations had made me just… brake. I didn't understand what it was, but all I could understand was that I was mourning. It was for one person, but I didn't care as that one person had been everything.

Life was just getting good as she had stepped in. But then there was this, this zombie shit, and it ruined everything. Why does this happen to me? And why am I hugging this stranger? God, I have no fucking idea, but his embrace felt good and firm as I knew that when my knees went weak, he would hold me up.

And I was right, I fell and he sank to his knees with me and held me closer…

* * *

I don't know why, but I felt as though I needed to hold this man for all it was worth. I don't even know his name, but Christ, it felt as though he was mine. I had to hold him whilst he let out every emotion he had bottled up in the form of tears. Tears define emotions and I couldn't tell what he was right now as he was whimpering in obvious fear, but he had a tight grip which suggested anger, but he was crying which meant sadness.

So, was he feeling all of it? It seemed so as he had collapsed under my tight embrace and I kept him close as I pulled him into my lap. He wrapped around me willingly as he let the tears continue to fall. I knew I would be soaked in hot tears and blood, but that complaint could wait.

I don't know much about this man's emotions, or my own for that matter, but I knew enough about human emotion to know that if he didn't get this out now, he wouldn't ever. And that would result in a huge bubble bursting and him doing something to delete every emotion he ever felt. when this didn't happen, this was what made strong men commit suicide. Because they never had someone to hold them.

I know this, but many other people do not, and that is why they never catch when someone is actually feeling lost instead of the confidence they show others. I do it, too, really. Although, I don't exactly have emotions to show, but there are still the simple ones. Like anger, and excitement, sometimes happiness. But otherwise, I don't feel much.

I notice other people's love and desire and happiness, but I feel none of it. It's why I knew this man was through so much. Why I knew that he would willingly go back to the battlefield if someone let him. Well, I won't. Then again, what's London now? Basically another war. _Great._

That was when I noticed the tears staring to slow, and eventually stop, but he didn't let go…

* * *

I couldn't let go of that silk in my hands as my breath was still heavy on his neck. I could feel his confusion as my grip never faltered and I buried my face further in the nape of his pale neck. I myself didn't understand why. But I couldn't let go. I tried to gulp my emotions down again, but this man would see them anyway.

I tried to get my hands to stop shaking, but they only quit for a few seconds as I heard his voice in my ear, "Hey," he started, I shivered at how deep it was, "if what you say is true, we need to get somewhere safer," he suggested.

I finally pulled my nose from the sweet smell of him, and eventually I'm looking into his bluish grey eyes that had just a hint of green as well. They were brilliantly colored as they managed to stare me down. I cleared my weak throat, and choked, "I… I know."

But he hadn't made a move to get up before I let my grip fall to my own lap and I stared at the hands that were still covered in Sarah's blood. I instantly blinked back the tears that I was not letting go of again, and I slowly lifted myself above the curly haired brunette.

He looked up to me as I held my hand out for him to use to get up. But he lightly smacked it away, refusing help as his hands hit the floor, and his feet followed as he was standing. I can't believe I didn't notice how tall he was. But in my defense, he was sitting when I walked in, and when he hugged me I was too distracted and couldn't have noticed.

His eyes travelled to his own white shirt, and he sighed at the mess as he grabbed his long coat from the counter's corner beside the woman who couldn't stop staring in awe.

What was her issue?

* * *

Molly stood, shocked that Sherlock had showed any kind of affection. She had been even more surprised when he had pulled the blond into his lap and comforted him as Molly had been meaning to. And now she just snapped her jaw shut as he grabbed his coat that was hanging on the corner of the counter in front of her.

Then the suspicious man stepped closer to Molly and Sherlock, "By the way, my name is John Watson," he introduced and sniffed. Sherlock stared at him as he coat twirled and was on him in seconds.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied, "a pleasure and a damper all in one," he admitted. John felt a little insulted, but he dismissed it, knowing this man was hiding every emotion. John might even say he was sociopathic, the way he had asked, instead of just hugging John.

"Dunno whether that was an insult or a compliment," John admitted more to himself but Molly finally spoke.

She stuttered, "He- he means it as both, he always does that," and Sherlock shrugged as he had pulled out his blue scarf that was now around his neck.

He flipped the collar over his scarfed neck, and John felt that it accented his cheekbones well. as Sherlock left the door with caution. First, he peaked his head out, and when there was nothing down either hall, he left, John for some reason, following.

Molly simply followed because she knew if she didn't she would probably be worse on her own. So she grabbed her own coat and followed the two men out the door. She slipped on her own scarf as she watched Sherlock, making sure he was okay, or at least right in the head.

This was Molly, always looking after the man with an attitude like a two year old and the brains as if he was over a million years of age. Yup, she was in for it later, big time. As they were cautious with the front door, Molly remembered Tom.

Poor sod is probably already dead. And you know, as she smooshed herself beside John, she didn't really care if he was. She looked to the ring he had given her a week before, and she slipped it off, letting it drop to the floor.

John didn't notice, as they were already moving again, but Sherlock saw and heard it. He smiled when she finally came to her senses. Tom was a dick, and Sherlock knew that much. He liked Molly, and if anyone but him hurt her, he would obliterate them.

But Molly didn't know that, all she knew was that she was going to get out of this alive, because Sherlock and now John will be there. She knew Sherlock wouldn't let her die, simply because he still understood the value of a human life. Just because he doesn't much like other humans doesn't mean he doesn't care if they die.

Yes, the murders were fun to solve, but they were done and over with. And if Molly died as he could have saved her, it would make a difference. Because that death _can_ be stopped. And she will ensure it never happens. She quite likes her life, thank you.

* * *

This man seemed to know where he was going, so I simply followed him to the sidewalk, but he pulled both the woman and I back into the ally. I still don't know her name. "There's a lot of them," I looked around as they shuffled along. Not so many that we couldn't get passed them, but a lot.

As we looked to their tattered clothing and spilled guts, I almost threw up at the one across the street. She was limping from the broken ankle she didn't care about, and she had blood caked over every inch of her, and part of her skull was missing, showing part of her plushy pink brain. Her clothes barely covered her anymore as one breast was almost exposed all the way, and her skirt was torn so much that you could see her pink pants. Half of her other arm was missing as you could see the bone and the still dripping blood.

So gross as I looked to the rest of them that weren't far off from being just as disgusting. But there were the few that had simply a piece of skin missing in the form of a bite and their skin was pale and they had others' blood on them, but otherwise they could have looked normal. Their clothing was caked in blood of course, but they walked normally and their posture was as if they hadn't changed a bit.

I guess it just goes to show that they really were human at one point. I wonder what spilled or what rained or whatever that caused this. If they were creatures of movies and books, did it happen like in the movies/books, or was it something completely different? Well, just standing here gawking and wondering isn't going to get me anywhere.

"Thanks for the obvious observation, John, now shut up," Sherlock hissed at me suddenly as my eyes went to his annoyed face. I rolled my eyes and he huffed as he spoke again, this time low and defined, and it made me shiver. He ordered us to follow him through the streets and, "When I say run, run…"

* * *

**Haha, there's another chapter, hope you liked it. Reviews?**


	4. Three

Three

They must have thought I was kidding when I whispered harshly, "Run!" but they loyally dashed out behind me as I ran past so many of those _things_ and was across the street and we were running to my flat. And from there I can get anywhere.

I can't get anywhere from the lab, because I only memorized one route from the lab and that was to my flat. But if I get to the flat, I can take landmarks and I can get anywhere else from there. And that was my plan. If they don't like it, forget them.

* * *

This man was crazy as he dashed out from behind the building and I followed with the woman behind me. We were across the street and passed a few more buildings before we stopped and Sherlock had taken out keys to open his door.

We were rushed into a small flat as he closed the door behind us and locked it. We knew that some of those things probably followed us here, determined to get another meal. And when he dashed about the flat, the girl finally introduced herself, "Molly."

At first I was confused, but then I understood what she meant, "Lovely name, then," I smiled at her. She was pretty. But not pretty enough for me to completely forget Sarah, and she's not exactly my type. Why I would be thinking about this, I don't know. I am definitely weird. But come on, you can't tell me Sherlock hasn't tried anything on her.

Hasn't he? I looked to her and back to him as he rushed about and I settled on her and her gaze when she looked at him. She adored him, and he just let her? "Please tell me," I whispered to her, "he's at least kissed you?"

She looked to me with confusion etched into her features. "Well," she looked back to him, "there was once on the cheek," she blushed, "but not officially, no. Why?" my eyes widened as she eyed me for an answer.

"You, it just…" I was at a loss for the answer she wanted. But she shrugged as she looked back to him with her arms crossed over her small chest. I can't believe he hasn't done anything to her at all. Obviously he' be able to see her infatuation, so why hasn't he acted on it?

If I was in his position, I would have. He is attractive and he could definitely- wait, did I just call Sherlock attractive? What the hell was that? Why would I find a _male_ attractive? "Molly?" he called as he walked from the kitchen area and stood in front of her. she looked to him expecting more and I simply looked to the floor, thinking about why I find him attractive.

I had also noticed that he hadn't changed his shirt, almost as if he forgot he was caked in blood. Strange, he is. But, I bet that if you get to know everyone, they have something weird about them. What the hell was normal, anyway?

"Where do you live?" he asked her. I pulled myself from my thoughts to hear his crazy plan. He has a plan, right? I hope he does, I got nothing. But she gave him her address and then he asked me, and I repeated mine from memory. Why does he need to know where we live? He said nothing about it if he has a plan.

"Yours is closer," he nodded to me. Why would he care?

* * *

He was confused, I could tell, but Molly was confident I had something planned. And I do, but it's a little cliché. Although, usually something's cliché because it works, so this had better work. I continued into asking, "Do you have a gun?"

He brows furrowed as he was starting to understand, "Yes. But I don't have much ammunition," he admitted.

I pulled the box of bullets from my pocket, "Would these work?" I asked. He nodded and I slipped them back in my coat's pocket. I then, drug them out the door once more and as soon as we hit the sidewalk, I pulled them in the direction of John's flat. I knew where I was going from here…

* * *

I was surprised when he pulled out that box of ammo, but I recovered as he pulled us out of his flat and we instantly broke into a sprint when our shoes touched the concrete. Our footsteps echoed off the almost completely silent streets as we ran past so many of those slow bastards. But what surprised me more was that there weren't as many as here were people in London.

It would have been suspicious if he hadn't grabbed my hand, "What do you think you're doing!?" I yelled at him, and was about to pull my hand from his. But he also had Molly's small hand in his other and I understood, grasping tighter.

After another few minutes, we were all gasping for air, and I guess he knew this as he pulled us into a completely abandoned alley. I tried to catch the breath that had escaped me. luckily, I was successful after a few more moments of bending over and letting my dog tags hit the underside of my flannel as I took the deepest breaths.

Oh God, this was what it felt like abroad. It was exhilarating. So many people had to die for this, but I was living and it felt so… amazing. My blood was pumping through my veins and Molly was beside me, laughing about something."What?" I almost had my breath steadied again.

"Just the fact that I feel like we're the only people alive and yet we don't exactly act like it," she breathed.

"Elaborate," Sherlock ordered from beside her. Of course he had his breath back first.

"Well, we don't really act like the people in the movies or in the books. It's like we've changed our actions for that reason, you know?" she laughed again.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked, chuckling a little myself.

"Change is neither good or bad, but it definitely means something's different," Sherlock said from beside Molly. I look to him and raised on eyebrow, shaking my head in confusion.

"Well, aren't you just poetic?" I asked, finally getting my breath back to normal as Molly was as well.

He shrugged as Molly smiled. I think she thinks it, too. He waved his hands about and dismissed it as he took our hands again and we were once again, running. But as I knew the path now, I could pick up my pace and actually run instead of following, clueless. We were running to my flat, and I knew how to get there from here.

See, there's my favourite café. And just around the corner, my favourite place to get movies. And a few blocks later is my flat itself. I bring out my keys as I, for some reason, don't let go of Sherlock's hand. I realized I still had it when I couldn't get the right key, and I let go to find that Molly had as well. Why had I held on so long?

I blushed as I unlocked the door quickly and we were all pushed inside as it was easier to get to breathing normally again. I locked it behind me as I usually do. Old habits die hard, I guess. But in this case, it's a good habit now.

"I won't be but ten minutes," I said, "I need to get cleaned up, and Sherlock," he looked at me expectant of more, "I'll get you a shirt, too," seeing as I was the one to get it all bloody in the first place. I was right, he had forgotten he was bloody.

He nodded as Molly had already sat in my chair and he stole a kitchen chair. "Sorry," I apologized as I went back to the bathroom for the quickest shower I've ever taken in my life.

* * *

Molly heard the water running and she finally exhaled, but it came out in frustration. "What is it?" Sherlock asked. Molly shook her head to say it was nothing. "Molly," Sherlock warned, knowing there was something.

She flattened her lips and looked to him, "Well," she started. She sighed a shorter sigh this time and then explained to her heart's content, "I think my fiancée is dead, and I don't really care. Then there's the thing you and John got going on, I don't what the hell that is. You never comfort people, and yet you told me not to so you could hug him. But anyway... I don't why I don't care and I feel heartless but then again I still…" she cleared her throat and looked to her hands, "I feel heartless but I still love you," she said as she let one tear fall.

Sherlock's brows furrowed together as he knew her mind was on the fritz from what's so suddenly happened. And he doesn't care if Tom is dead, either, but he cares about if Molly cares. He didn't know why he cared about his colleague, but he did. Although, he acted as if he didn't, "I told you before, Molly and I will repeat it, 'Sentiment is a chemical defect on the losing side,'" he stated.

She looked to him, and more tears fell. She couldn't help it as her lips quivered and she buried her face in her hands, "I know," she gasped. But she was surprised when Sherlock wrapped his arms around her shaking body.

He sighed, as he couldn't tell her it was okay this time. Because it wasn't. And so he honestly didn't know what the fuck to say to the crying woman now wrapping herself around him. He embraced her tighter as she looked up to him.

He tilted his head to look back down at her and her hair was falling out of her pony tail. He gave her a tight smile but she didn't return it as she always does. Instead, she stared at him, specifically his lips and before he knew what was happening her own were on his…

* * *

I dried off as I heard someone sobbing from the living room. Great, what did he do to her now? But as I dressed and walked back out to the living room with a shirt for him in my hand, my jaw dropped. And when I closed my mouth, I was smiling.

I don't know who was kissing who, but she was in his embrace and her lips were on his. And I knew it, there _was_ something there. But he seemed to be too shocked to do anything. So she had kissed him. Still, it looked adorable.

But when she separated from him, he simply stared at her with what could only have been surprise. She tried to smile, but failed as her eyes travelled to her lap. Poor Molly. But then he saw me, and he moved from her embrace, stripping his coat and his scarf and taking the green and black stripes I had given him.

"I was rubbish at pulling off simple stripes, so I figure you could try," and he grunted in response as he was undoing the shirt he was currently wearing. I couldn't help but to stare as it dropped to my floor. (By the way, if you watched the pilot episode, you'll know what shirt I put him in, and you'll know how sexy that shirt was… XD).

But I realized I was staring and my eyes travelled to Molly, who also was staring at him. But the moment was lost as my shirt was draped over his shoulders and he was buttoning it up. Molly still had a few tears falling as I walked over to her, picking her up in an embrace to try to comfort her.

She clung to me as I stumbled and we fell in the chair under me. But she was safe and still crying into my shoulder as I just ran my hand over her back, soothing her. Her hair was a bit of a mess as she realized that I had been staring at it.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out the hair tie and let her fluffy, dark blond hair fall around her shoulders and on my chest. I hadn't realized it was so long, as it reached the belt in her trousers easily. She ruffled it a bit to get the indentation of the hair tie out of it and it landed parted to the side.

Her hair was amazing as it settled and she looked down to her hands. She sniffled as her tears had stopped and she just sat in my lap. It was getting awkward, but only a little…

* * *

She had kissed me, and it felt… I don't know, but what I did have for her grew when she did that. I didn't pull away, but I didn't participate either. I didn't know what to do. And I know she's staring as I pulled my shirt from my shoulders and John's replaced it.

And then I turned to find her in John's lap and something was nagging at me to yell at him. But I didn't as she slipped from him and he stood, grabbing a brown leather jacket that looked good on him, I have to say. Molly's hair was around her shoulders as the pink hair tie had been slipped on her wrist for future use. She smiled weakly at me and I gave her my usual tight one in return.

"I imagine you have things you'd like to gather for yourself as well, Molly?" I asked as she nodded, her face returning to her normal color instead of the regrettable red. I exhaled deeply as I swung my coat around myself again and stuffed my scarf in my pocket.

John was at the door, "Ready when you are," he said as his fingers were on the lock. Molly walked up behind him and I placed my hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze and we were out the door once again.

We linked hands again as Molly took us to her flat a long ways away, even with sprinting. But I was happy to be at her side, instead of alone in this. and there's John. God, both of their hands felt so good in mine, I didn't know whether to smile or to remember that I am supposed to be a sociopath…


	5. Four

Four

Molly brought her keys out with one hand as we finished the sprint and she unlocked the door, shoving all of us inside, and we were all breathing heavily as I asked, "What about Tom?" and she looked at me as if she had completely forgotten his existence. She probably had, I would have.

John looked to me as well and I explained, "He could be here and… you know." They both nodded in understanding as Molly checked the flat for signs of anyone being here besides her and us. She shook her head as she walked back a small hall to what I presume is her room.

She walks back out with a simple small purse and says she has all she needs for now. It was interesting. Usually girls have a shit ton of things they carry with them, but not Molly. She was simple and different. Now I wondered why John hadn't tried to scoop her up already. Maybe it was the girlfriend… yeah, that's probably it.

No, that IS it. Because he looked at her and smiled briefly before looking to the floor and cursing to himself. Of course Molly didn't see or hear this, keeping her eyes on me. Oh yeah, I was the one with the plan…

* * *

I looked from the floor to Sherlock to find him staring at me. I raised a brow in question and he simply went back to looking at Molly and said, "I know a place where we can go, but it's a ways away," he admitted. "We'll need a car," he explained more.

Molly's hand rose a little, "I have one," she said, "but I don't know if Tom took it or if…" she didn't want to say, but we both knew what she meant.

"Would you like us to help you check?" I asked, holding a hand to her. She smiled and nodded, taking both of our hands and we cautiously opened the door and were around behind the building in seconds.

But when he rounded the corner, there was a zombie. I resisted the urge to scream as it lunged for Molly, and she pulled out something that was now stuck in his head, "You were a dick anyway," she pulled it from his forehead and I stood beside her, looking down on it, surprised that she had just done that.

But there was no time to gawk as she took is to a small blue car in the small parking lot behind her building. Sherlock simply shrugged off the kill and slid in the back seat as I took the passenger seat and Molly, of course sat behind the wheel.

But then she suggested, "Sherlock, you know where we're going, why don't you drive?" she asked. And he instantly switched places with her and she gave me a tight smile that I returned as Sherlock turned the key in the ignition. "Should be full," she explained from behind us, and I heard a belt click as I remembered mine.

Sherlock clicked his in as well and we all giggled when he ran over one of those things behind us. It made a sound when the car crushed it's skull and Sherlock grinned. He was enjoying this, and I would judge, but we were all enjoying this. "So, where are we going?" I asked as we were out of the parking lot.

"My brother's. To see if he's still alive and because, well… you'll see when we get there," he smirked and kept his eyes on the road full of fun. Especially now that the 'pedestrians' became targets. I have no idea why, but it was fun running those things over and seeing the blood trail it left on the road behind us.

It was morbid, but it was funny. Even Molly was laughing. Her laugh was pretty, but Sherlock's was deep and it made me shiver. They both sounded nice while I think my laugh is obnoxious and too loud. But we enjoyed ourselves and that was what counted, what we needed…

* * *

Molly was a bit nervous about letting Sherlock drive her car, but she figured that he was so good at everything, why shouldn't he be able to drive? And she was right, he was good at that, too. He even managed to kill a good number of those things on the streets, and they were all laughing at the sounds and the blood it left on all over the place.

She loved it because she could let him make a mess and she didn't have to clean it up later. Plus, it was fun because she knew they weren't alive anymore. And, with Tom definitely and finally dead, she could relax because she had no one else she had to worry about.

Although, she didn't really worry about him except for how to kill him, and that was done. Well, she couldn't really relax, but you know what I mean. She could forget about everything else except the will to survive and loving the man driving her car.

She didn't know why she didn't just tell him, it was really obvious. But she felt that if she did, it would ruin the small friendship they do have. Then again, she had shattered that when she kissed him. Oh, but his lips were so soft, even if they weren't responding to hers. She decided it was worth it, and if he wasn't going to make a move, she would. And she had.

But she still felt guilty for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that she had confused him with his own feelings. Oh, but what feelings? God, why do you have to be so confusing, you stupid arse?! But she still enjoyed driving in the streets and letting Sherlock ruin the bodies left of the people of London, with her car!

* * *

God, driving her car felt so good! Especially with being able to legitimately run over the assholes in my way. I've always wanted to run someone over with a car, and now I can! And later, I'm sure I'll get to shoot some bastards.

And when we finally arrived at my destination, John gawked as Molly just grinned. She knows how well off my brother is, but John doesn't. Let's just hope the arse is still alive. I actually don't know if he is and it's killing me to not know. Well, not literally killing me, but you know.

We were about to approach, when there was a woman behind Molly. Oh, it's her. "Hello Anthea," I greeted and she scoffed in response.

"Well, you better hurry, we don't want those things eating you," she said sarcastically, almost as if she didn't care. But Mycroft cares, and I know he does. Sometimes, I can be an ass about it and call him the Iceman, but I know he cares. And so were 'escorted' to Mycroft's home.

* * *

This woman was beautiful, I'm telling you, her curls were making my head bob with them. I couldn't peal my eyes away from her until we reached the door. Her holding a gun and looking sexy like that wasn't helping my case, either. But I tamed myself as I said and did nothing.

She let us in and there was first a main room and off to the left was a huge kitchen and off to the right was a hallway and up the stairs was something else. I don't know what's up there, but just the main room was gorgeous.

The carpet under the chairs and the couch was velvet red and the chairs matched it and looked soft to sit in. The couch was a navy blue that blended well with the color of the walls and the fireplace… it was amazing, as there were flames decorating the logs inside. The mantel piece only had one picture among the other things.

A picture of a brilliant man in a suit, that I can only assume is Sherlock's brother. If so, I have no idea how they'd be related. They look nothing alike, Sherlock is way more attractive… what the hell was that?! Why do I keep doing that? Sherlock's _beautiful_, Sherlock's _attractive, his curls, his lips, his hair_… God, I sound like a sodding teenager and it's for another **man**!

I would have beat myself in the head if there hadn't been a man coming down the stairs hurriedly. "Sherly! I thought you dead!" and it looked as if he was going to hug Sherlock, but decided on not. And I was right, the man in the picture was his brother.

"I thought the same of you, Myc," he replied and obviously that name irritated him. But I also saw that, 'Sherly,' irritated Sherlock as well. Noted, I might annoy him with it later. Again! Am I crushing on a man!? God no!

"Mycroft, hi," Molly greeted as she hugged him around the neck. He simply patted her back and she let go. You could see she was just trying to be nice, but Mycroft was just pushing it off and looking at Sherlock. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, but apparently Sherlock could, as he sent a look back.

"I need to talk to you, brother," Mycroft said.

"Agreed," and they went off down the hall so we couldn't hear them. Molly looked to me in confusion, but I shrugged. I don't know what that was about, either.

* * *

"Agreed," and he led me back the hall just out of ear's reach so we could talk about this. "Where's Lestrade?" I asked, knowing he'd still be alive. He may be a stupid detective, but he was good with a gun.

"Holed up in his flat, I was actually about to ask if you could retrieve him," Mycroft asked with his eyes. His face was as cold as usual but there was something he was begging me for.

"How far away is it?" I asked, giving in with a sigh. Mycroft's eyes smiled at me, and he gave me an address, "That's insanely close to The Yard," I complain. I could imagine Anderson as a zombie, and it was kind of funny, actually. He does seem stupid enough to get bit first.

"He's a working man, Sherly. What else do you expect?" I know, I know, but still. No wonder his wife left him, he never does anything but work.

"If I'm not back in about an hour, assume the worst, Myc," using the nickname I know he hates. He scowled at me, but nodded as I rejoined John and Molly in the main room. I met with John, "I need your help with something. Molly, you stay here," I demanded. she settled as I pulled John away to talk.

"What could you possibly need my help with?" he complained as I pulled him to the door with one arm.

"You were a soldier, yes?" I asked and he nodded about to complain again, when I let go and said to him, "we're going to get a… a friend, and you're going to help. You do have a gun, right?" I asked.

"Jesus, Sherlock, yes I have a gun. Who are we getting and why can't Molly come?" he asked.

"DI Lestrade, and she can't because… because…" I couldn't really explain why.

"I know why, let's just go," he grabbed my arm and with Anthea following us as she was ordered to, we climbed back into Molly's car.

* * *

I knew why he wouldn't let Molly come along, and it was adorable to see him trip over words for her. So I simply told him I knew why and we were out the door with Anthea following as I presume she was ordered to.

We clambered into Molly's small blue car again, and he was still driving. But he knew where we were going and I didn't, so he had to drive. Plus, it was fun to let him run over the dead bastards occupying our space on the road.

I thanked Anthea for her protection and she said simply, "You're too sweet," and I blushed. She ran back to the house and Sherlock started the engine before I could say anything else on the matter.

Soon we hit the road, and there were more of them! It was fun, though, and we hollered in laughter as he ran one over twice. He was an idiot, but I'm sure I would have done the same if I was given the chance. There were intestines and stomachs and brains splattered across the roads and the sidewalks by the time we were done playing around.

We finally parked in another parking lot that was behind another building. Sherlock pulled out a dagger that he had apparently stashed somewhere and he was amazing with it. He had already killed two by the time I was out of the car and had my gun in hand…

* * *

**Next comes Gregory Lestrade! I hope to see reviews, guys. Please?**


	6. Five

Five

I was out first, and I think he wanted me to be first, because he had already had the door open, and once I climbed out, he followed. Obviously, we had an audience, and obviously that audience was compromising. But Sherlock was amazing when it came to that dagger.

I was about to shoot, because there was a small crowd around him, and they didn't seem to want me, but damn that was sexy. A kick to one's chest, a stab to the head at his shoulder, then one to the one that he had made kneel, and to finish, a twirl of that coat and the third thing dropped. I need to get myself a detective like that.

"Don't worry, you'll have your chance," he smirked at my awe. "Wouldn't do to have that making noise," he gestured to my pistol, "so," he dug in his jacket, "here," it was a dagger identical to his own. How he had two of them, I would question later.

"Yeah, thanks," and I put away my gun to bring the dagger to a comfortable position in my hand…

* * *

He was just as amazing as he seemed to think I was. There were only two, but the way he dealt with his height difference was completely… I'm not sure. Sexy? I don't know if that would be the right word.

One drops from a simple blow to the head, obviously, but the other drop from a spin kick that I didn't think he could pull off, as it hit the thing square in the jaw and he landed with its 'life' gone. I hope that only gets better, because we'll probably have more to deal with in the hall of Lestrade's flat.

If I know him, and I do, he won't just be hiding out. He's probably actually wondering a way out now. He's not one to just hide from a problem. John grins at me and we approach the front of the building where only one loiters.

John gets that as I find that the door is unlocked and soon we're marching upstairs to Lestrade's flat…

* * *

Gregory was trembling as he heard footsteps in the flat, oh God, there's more of them!? How the hell did they get into a locked flat? He didn't understand as he heard a voice. He paused from opening the door, is that Sherlock? And who's that with him.

"John, he has to be here, don't be an idiot," yup, that's him. He moved a shaky hand to the door as he heard John finally say something coherent.

"Don't call me an idiot. If I was one, I'd be a zombie," he explained and Greg heard shuffling back the hallway towards his room.

He decided it would be best to just figure out what the hell was going on, "What do you want, Sherlock?" he pushed the door open and stepped in the hall to see the sociopath's bored face.

"Isn't it obvious? We came here for you," he smiled and John rolled his eyes.

"Right, let's just get the hell outa here, yeah?" they both nodded and all three of them were down the stairs and out on the sidewalk. "It was Mycroft, wasn't it?" he asked as they rounded the corner of the building, and of course! There always has to be a crowd of those son of a bitches right around the little blue car.

"Shut up," Sherlock and John hissed at the same time and Lestrade shut his lips…

* * *

That's just fucking fantastic! A little crowd of about six maybe seven of those bastards surrounded the car and there were about four other strays that once they started killing, those would get over there.

"If we're fast enough, we can pull this off, you two ready?" Sherlock looked to be in belief that I could get through, but Lestrade looked at as if I was joking. I exhaled in frustration and handed him my pistol, "If we don't kill them first," I explain.

Sherlock raised his eyes brows at the silver haired man and he simply gave an eye roll, and we were running through the parking lot. I simply knocked down one of the strays to get to the crowd of things around the car.

Sherlock made it look so easy, twirling round and round in that coat, but I couldn't admire it because I had some punches and stabs to throw myself. But every time I got a glimpse of his thunder, I was shocked.

Stab, kick, turn, Sherlock's in the fucking air. Okay, punch, stab kick again, turn once more, Sherlock on one knee with a thing under him. How… I don't know, but those strays? Yeah, they were gathering as well now. And Lestrade climbed in as Sherlock and I followed.

Sherlock turned the key and for a moment I didn't think it would be possible to make it. But the engine roared to life and we were out. "Who the hell are you?" the man sitting in the back asked, as Sherlock smirked.

"John Watson, and you?" I turned to meet his eyes.

"Gregory Lestrade," he paused to look to the floor before addressing me again, "how did you meet Sherlock?"

"How do you think? I came running covered in…" I swallowed thickly, "blood, and Molly was surprised, I can tell you that," I chuckled.

"Molly? Molly Hooper? She's alive?" he looked to Sherlock.

"She's with me," Sherlock explained what do you think?" and his same bored face was replaced with a smile as I realized what he was smiling at.

"Get ready for this, he's a pro at hitting those things," Gregory was confused, but when Sherlock started, we all broke out in laughter. Like I said, he was a professional at running down zombies, and somehow making the brains and guts spill as much as the blood...

It was especially fun to watch the blood spray out from under the tires after we drove off from hitting one. "Why is this so funny?" Gregory asked through laughter.

I breathed, "Oh, I don't know, but it's fun, isn't it?" and he nodded.

Imagine A Cool Transition Of Some Kind

We were rushing to the mansion with Anthea by our side and Sherlock was in the lead as Gregory was behind me. Anthea covered as we sprinted to the front door and Sherlock opened it and we were inside in seconds, Anthea locking it again.

I'm guessing they unlock it for the brief moment, to get us inside, because of course Mycroft would be watching. But why does he care so much about…Gregory jumped Mycroft and hugged him tight, Mycroft returning it! And smiling!

Then it was the next part that relay confused me. Gregory planted a kiss on Mycroft's lips, and I have no idea why such a man would concern himself with a simple man like Gregory. Seeing as Mycroft is obviously well off.

Then again, Sherlock took the time to involve himself with me, listen to me, hold me even. I can't really judge, but somehow I still am. I'm such a dick. And as I looked away to Sherlock, he raised his eyebrows at me, and I shrugged. He just rose one higher, and I glared at him. He grinned, what the hell was that about?

I don't know, but the next thing I know, Molly is pouncing me, "John! Sherlock!" his turn, "I thought you wouldn't come back," she explained.

"You have little faith in me," Sherlock said simply as she smiled. She then looked to me, and I had no idea what to say or do. Not because I like her or anything, simply because we just rescued Mycroft's apparent lover, as we have to sit this out and survive, and I don't know what's available already and what we might need more of.

"Seriously, though," I spoke, "we should have a little meeting or something to-" and I was cut off by a banging on the door.

"Somebody fucking help me!" she pounded. Yes, it was a girl.

And she sounded, "American," Sherlock rose his brows at the door and Anthea pulled it open as she almost fell over when she was pulled in.

She was covered in blood, and only wearing short shorts and a tank top, not even shoes or socks. Sherlock tilted his head at her, "The hell are you looking at?" she spat. She had dirty blond but fluffy hair and bangs that framed he face from being split down the middle, and her outfit was blue, all of it. And she looked so young, so then how did she survive?

"Who, what, when and where?" Sherlock asked, gesturing to her pudgy figure. she stared at him from head to toe.

She crossed her arms over here chest, "Rivera, that, then and there," she answered, being a smart ass. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, I suspect deducing whatever he can. And then he turned to me.

He stepped closer and said quietly, "Trustworthy, but has an attitude," then I realized, "she was on vacation here," he was spitting out deductions to me, "her family is dead and gone, she's about thirteen maybe fourteen years of age, swears a lot, young writer," he tilted his head at her again, "sketch artist," he spoke up louder, "Washington, correct?" he had finally addressed her.

"Where I was before I vacationed in this hell hole, why-" she stopped short, and then her cheeks grew red as she recognized who was addressing her. "Sherlock Holmes," she held out a bloody hand, "pleasure, but you're still a dickhole," she insulted. He took it and shook once, but furrowed his brows at her insult.

It was a little strange, but I've heard weirder. She turned to me, "Then I can only assume that you're John," she held out the same hand she had to Sherlock. I smiled tightly as I shook it once as he had. "What's with you two?" she waved to Mycroft and Gregory still hanging on him.

He gripped Mycroft tighter and she grinned when she knew, "Mycroft Holmes and Gregory Lestrade… Never thought…" she shrugged, "can't really judge," she smiled and held the same hand out to them as well. Gregory accepted first, and Mycroft followed, wiping his hand afterwards, and she smirked at that.

She turned to Molly," Molly Hooper?" she guessed and Molly nodded, happily shaking her bloody and might I add, dirty hand. With each person of our little group, she beamed brighter. Was she enjoying this, and how the hell does she know all of us?

Mycroft answered all our internal questions, "John's blog?" she nodded, and her face lit up.

"It's not only Britain that reads the adventures of the sociopathic detective! I love detective stories, and detectives," she winked at Sherlock and buzzed, "I would be happier, if I weren't stuck in this shithole of a city… not that it was before!" she corrected quickly.

"I agree, honestly," I spoke, "London has turned into a shithole. But it was respectable before those retched things started taking over," I said angrily. She nodded, lowering her head, as she, I assume, remembered how she got to the mansion.

"As I was saying, we should have a group discussion about this whole situation. What we need, what we don't, what we do, what we don't," I glance at Rivera and she nods in agreement. "But first, can you please clean yourself up?" I asked her.

She smiled, "I like being dirty better, but if you insist. Got anything I can wear?" she asked.

Mycroft answered, "Anthea can find you something, I'm sure," he nodded at Anthea and she nodded as well, smiling as she took Rivera upstairs. "Strange, she is," Mycroft admitted after she was out of earshot.

"Quite," Sherlock smiled as he sat on the couch, throwing his coat over the back, and I followed suit, plopping down beside him. But Molly sat beside me, smooshed to the arm and into me. I scooted over and she situated herself, I'm guessing she doesn't want to be near Sherlock so much anymore. I understand.

Mycroft sat in a sitting chair and Gregory sat in the one across the room from him. There was room left for Rivera to sit beside Sherlock and Anthea to sit in another sitting chair. As soon as they come back.

* * *

Anthea helped Rivera from her clothes, if that's what you could call them. Rivera was a little chubby, but cute all around (or so others have told her), and Anthea didn't judge as she had been the same way when she was younger.

Rivera didn't care that she was defrocked in front of another, she never had. Which was why she was able to wear the clothes she did. "Why didn't you wear any shoes?" Anthea asked, with one brow raised.

"I hate them, wouldn't wear clothes if I didn't have to," she shrugged as Anthea turned on the water.

"I assume you know how to wash yourself," Anthea chuckled and she laughed, nodding. "I'll leave some clothes for you, and be quick, Sherlock has little patience," she warned. She left to get clothes as Rivera climbed under the wonderful spray.

Anthea left a pile of clothes on the counter and left, hoping Rivera didn't take too long. And she didn't, although she wanted to, she didn't spend more than five minutes in the rain-like shower. But as she dressed in the most basic of clothing (jeans, a red T-shirt and no shoes, as usual) she remembered that she would have to tell the group how she came across Mycroft's mansion.

She didn't want to, but she knew for them to accept her and her help (hopefully) she was going to have to give them the truth. She sighed as she padded her way back to the main room and saw everyone already seated. Sherlock patted a side beside himself and she smiled tightly, taking it…

* * *

**Soooo... Reviews? How do you like the new character? **


	7. Six

Six

"What I want to know first," Sherlock said, "you were blogging during a zombie apocalypse?!" he looked to me with his brows knitted in confusion.

I shrugged, "I didn't think anyone would read it, so yes. Everyone's in it... Again, I thought no one would read it. What did you think I was doing on my phone?" I asked.

"Well, I did!" Rivera looked to me and referred to reading it, "and it was sexy the way you described Sherlock," she smiled mischievously at me. "And the poetic twist you put to things is perfect," she beamed and I blushed a thanks.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "All of us?" he asked in confirmation as I nodded. He scoffed, "and you like poetry?" he turned to her.

"Yes, is there something wrong with that, douche bag?" she swore. He shook his head slowly and the rest of the group was waiting for them to just shut up already. "I write it, too," she crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in a huff of annoyance.

Mycroft jumped right into the problems, "We only have a certain amount of food. It could last a long time, yes, but we'll need more eventually," he brought up. I nodded and Sherlock perked up.

"Molly's car, and I'm sure there are grocery stores around, and gas stations," he said in advance. We all nodded, even Rivera, as she had forgotten about her little puff of anger. The rest of the discussion went to the house and what was here in general. And I have to say, I will definitely explore it once I have the time.

But we assigned certain jobs to certain people and suddenly Rivera got red in the face, "I wanna do something! I am not just a good for nothing adolescent," she complained.

"And you can fight?" Sherlock scoffed, "No," he decided. Mycroft was about to agree, as was the rest of the group, but then she did something to change all of our minds.

"I am not useless!" she punched Sherlock's arm, still he wasn't convinced, although I could see it had hurt a little. But I could also see that she hadn't given all she was worth, but when she did, it was actually really funny.

She ended up putting her fist to Sherlock's face and she had nothing on her as his cheek was bleeding. "Convinced? Or do you need more?" she raised her fist again and he stared at her with a glare I wouldn't want to be caught in.

But she tackled him to the ground and straddled him as there was a fist to his chest, "More?" she asked as he was trying to get his breath back.

He still glared at her, but pushed her off and said, "Fine," they sat again and I could tell everyone was trying not to laugh. Especially Mycroft and Gregory. I myself thought that was genuinely funny. "You'll be with Molly and Anthea," he said and she rolled her eyes, but accepted.

And the discussion continued into the use of Molly's car and whether we should teach Rivera to drive or not. We might need her to know, as we don't know what could happen. And eventually it went to Rivera's no shoes thing. She refused to wear shoes, she didn't feel she should.

We tried to tell her, but she wouldn't have it. And we all gave up as she sat, stubborn and not going to wear shoes. I know she should and so does everyone else, but she refused. Teens, eh? Although, she's a strange one.

And I'm not sure that I would have liked to have been Sherlock when it came to being punched by her. he probably has a bruise now. It was still hilarious.

Transition

"Still, it was funny, and I applaud you," I shook her hand and she smiled. "You're not one to gloat, are you?" I asked as I let go.

"Honestly, usually I would, I mean beating a grown man and all," she smiled, "but those kinds of things are needed now, so everyone should have that knowledge, so it's not special anymore," she explained. I shrugged.

"Well, it was so funny because he's actually pretty good when it comes to killing those things," I explain.

"I am as well," she said, the smile fading. She flattened her lips and disappeared upstairs, to a bedroom, I assume. "And John," I looked to her, "he'll be good for you," she smiled sweetly and was up the stairs before I could give her a questioning look.

Then I understood, and it bewildered me as to why she would think that I should be with Sherlock. If anything, I'd go for Molly or Anthea, not him. Or would I? No, I shook my head. "She is right, you know," Molly.

"What?" I wheeled around to see her.

"I've seen the way you look at him. He may not exactly be perfect," yes, he is… "but I think she's right," she smiled sadly.

I was confused. "I thought you had a thing for him?"she shrugged. "Well, don't you?" I asked.

"I do," she admitted, "but I've also seen the way he looks at you," she commented and I was about to ask, but she explained for me, "it's different from the way he looks at other people. Almost as if it's… warmer. I can't really describe it, but it's different," she said.

"Maybe I'm just special, then?" I suggested. She shrugged as Sherlock was behind her.

"Special how, John?" he asked, quirking a brow at me.

"In many ways," I chuckled and Molly smiled as Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Molly, John, let me show where you'll sleep," he smiled and we followed him up the stairs as he showed us down the right hallway that was also the ledge that you could look out on the main room with. I think Mycroft did that on purpose, because there were only four bedrooms in this 'hall' and Sherlock, Molly, Rivera and I have those bedrooms.

Apparently mine is directly beside Sherlock's. I'm in between Sherlock and Molly and Rivera is by Sherlock. So I was the third door as Molly was the last and Rivera was the first. Yup, he did this on purpose. I don't think he trusts Rivera quite yet.

Sherlock does, even after she beat him. She does seem trustworthy, though. Rivera's just a little… off. But I would be too if I had to be stuck in this shit as a teen. That's the other thing, we don't know how old she really is. I'm going to have to ask her about these things…

* * *

I do think Mycroft put Rivera first for a reason, and I do think he put John and I beside one another on purpose, and I still don't know why Molly was making John a little pink. Was he, perhaps blushing at the fact that she was telling him something absurd? Like I like him or something? Yes, quite… absurd.

Honestly, what I'm worried about tonight, is the nightmares. What if they make a return and John or Rivera hears that. I would hope that John would hear it, Rivera just doesn't seem the cuddly type. But I could be wrong. Despite what people think I'm wrong a lot. It is regrettable, but true.

Transition

I couldn't sleep. Tossing and turning, getting hot and then cold. I drifted once, but woke once the fear of something coming and eating set in. this is bullshit, why can't I sleep? Maybe because I know what's going to happen if I do…

That was when I heard choked whispers in the room next door. It sounded like Molly… Molly? In Rivera's room? no, Rivera in Molly's room, and I'm hearing it weird. But still, why? Oh, great minds think alike then. In this case, that's bad.

But I can't sleep and my clock isn't helping by telling me that it's one in the morning and I should be asleep. So I slipped on a shirt over my chest and trudge to John's room, "John," I poked my head through the door.

"Mm, what?" he managed as he rolled over to face me.

"This sounds really awkward," I took a step closer to the bed, "but I can't sleep, and I need…" it really is awkward. But he was still sleepy as he simply lifted the covers and I slipped in, "thank you," I said and he rolled back over, falling asleep again.

Eventually I did sleep, but it wasn't deep until I had to wake up an hour after I was sleeping soundly. "Sherlock," John shook me.

I rolled over, bringing the covers over my head, "Mm!" I complained and he laughed, pulling the sheets from my hands.

"Did you forget that we're surrounded by zombies in your brother's mansion?" he asked and I shot up.

"We're… oh right, those things…" and then I realized that I was still in my friend's bed. My friend? Whatever, I still stood, "sorry about last night," I apologized.

"It's not the first time I've had someone come to me with a need such as yours. It's what friends are for," he smiled and removed himself as well, folding down the sheets again. Military style, and his hands were skilled; I swear I could have bounced a quarter from those corners. But I moved my eyes from him as I looked to Molly, who had just opened the door.

She blushed as she said, "Mycroft says breakfast," she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder and left the door open to let the smells come through…

* * *

Letting Sherlock sleep in my bed was something I was used to letting people do. Many of the soldiers I went to war with would try to share a bed with a good friend, as it calmed them. I had one as well, we might as well split into sleeping with how many people didn't sleep in their own beds.

The young man I had attached was only nineteen and he was really skittish. Amazing out on the battlefield, but give him a minute alone and he was a mess. It made my heart sick, so I took him under my wing. Only to have him… never mind. The point is, I was too used to things like that to care that it was Sherlock this time.

So then why did it mean more than it should have? It felt as though I was sleeping in a bed with someone else, and not a man that was barely my friend. Perhaps that was why he was barely my friend? Because I want more? I shook it from my head as Molly walked in.

She blushed like crazy when she saw Sherlock and I in the same bedroom. Why, though? Did she think we were…? Oh God, what is with people? I was just trying to help, I'm a doctor and a soldier, it's my job to help. Why can't I help without it looking like something else?

But she mentioned breakfast and instantly I was hungry, and the smells didn't help. Pancakes, mmmm. Sherlock left and I assume he dressed, cause I did.

Breakfast was delicious, I'd never had food that was as good as my own, but they swung it. The pancakes wee fluffy and the bacon was amazing, and the eggs… it was just amazing. Rivera liked it, but she barely ate what was on her plate. While Molly and Anthea seemed to be loving it.

Gregory ate all of his, and bugged Mycroft to eat his own. Mycroft grunted in response. Sherlock picked at his, and I could tell he wasn't going to eat all of it. Brat. He saw me staring, and he rose a brow in question and I motioned for him to friggin' eat and he simply rolled his eyes.

I shook my head as I just said, "Sherlock, eat," and stared at him for a response.

"It slows my thinking, and I don't like it," he complained. I rolled my eyes and as he was about to complain more, I picked up his fork and shoved the eggs in his mouth. He glared at me and chewed and swallowed and was again, about to complain as I did it, again.

I heard Rivera and Molly whispering about something and I ignored it as Sherlock simply accepted me feeding him, and he was eating. He was pouting, but eating and I felt accomplished…

* * *

"Wouldn't they be perfect?" Rivera whispered to Molly and nudged her.

"Oh yes," she whispered back, "Sherlock was in John's room this morning," and Rivera's eyes widened.

"He was? Do you think…?" she left it hanging and Molly answered with a slight nod and a smile.

"I don't think it went that far, but he was definitely sleeping there," she replied. Rivera giggled softly and Molly followed as Anthea eyed them, wondering what could be so entertaining. But she said nothing, just waited for everyone to finish and they would finally address how Rivera even got here…

* * *

**I hope this was enjoyable... Reviews?**


	8. Seven

Seven

I could tell she didn't want to say how she got here, but we all needed to know, and she can't be a mystery. Sherlock would probably solve her like he used to his cases, and that'd end bad. She's got a mouth on her, and she packs a punch, I don't doubt that she'd hit Sherlock again…

So we listened as she cleared her throat. "Well," she started. "Obviously, my family and I were vacationing and we decided to visit London. It was fantastic, by the way. Then we decided to go driving, and we ended up hitting this man on the road. But he wasn't a man, he was a zombie, obviously. Anyway, we thought he was dead, for good, and we stopped to see and he... bit my mom.

"Then my dad tried to take care of her, and she turned and bit him. And my three brothers? The idiots they were," she almost cried, but she held her own as she finished, "we ran, and we were hiding. But they forgot there were zombies outside and they ran off, you can guess what can happen with that one," she choked a sob, but no tears fell.

Almost, but no dice. I could tell she was determined to keep it all in. She composed herself much like Sherlock does and flattened her lips to look to us for a response. I gave none, neither did the others, and suddenly she yelled out, "Fuck! Shit!" and ran up the stairs, Molly following.

I had no idea if I should have followed as well, but the rest of everyone sat awkwardly and had no idea what to do…

* * *

Rivera sobbed into Molly's neck as she wrapped her arms around her shoulders, holding her so close Molly couldn't see her face. But that was what she wanted, Rivera hated to have people stare at her when she didn't permit them to. She was weird…

But Molly stroked her soft blond hair and soothed her as she took in huge breaths of air, tears fell and she sobbed out more breaths. It was a vicious cycle and only ended a few minutes later. But her eyes were still red as her cheeks were a little puffy.

She simply wiped away most of the evidence as best she could and sniffled, "I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Why? We all cry sometimes," Molly said.

"Not me, I haven't cried in over two years. I don't cry, but…" she trailed off and got this cold expression on her face, "I am going to kill every bastard I find, and no one is stopping me," she claimed.

"That's one tall order for a girl your size," Molly joked.

"Hey! I'm five foot two," she crossed her arms over her chest and pretended to pout. But they both broke out in giggles afterwards anyway.

"Okay?" Molly rubbed her back and she sighed.

"No, but better than a few minutes ago. I won't be okay until we stop this, or get out," she admitted.

"We should get back to the group," Molly pointed at the open door and the stairs beside it. Rivera heaved another sigh as they left, stomping down the stairs.

* * *

She came back down and it was evident that she had been crying, but don't people usually cry for at least an hour or two? She is a strange one. Oh, I see. Well, that would be the death of her, if we didn't need soldier complexes.

John caught me staring and elbowed me, shaking his head for me to quit. I shrugged as Molly and Rivera resumed their positions, almost as if nothing had happened. Good, we don't need lingering thoughts on anything but the zombies wandering London.

I wonder, "Is it just London or is it everywhere?" I asked Mycroft.

He knew what I was asking, as he replied, "Surprisingly, they contained it and it's only in London. But they quit searching once they knew there wouldn't be any survivors," he explained. "Although, here we are," he pointed out.

"Mm," I agreed and the discussion turned back to Rivera. To how old she was, what grade she was in, and things that were so stupid.

"Well," she responded, "I am fourteen, freshman year of high school, and my name isn't really Rivera," she admitted.

"Oh?" Anthea leaned over her crossed legs and looked to Rivera.

"No, it's…" she stared at John, "Elizabeth," she decided quickly. Oh, I see. Well, that would be upsetting. I'm guessing he wrote about her.

"No, it's not, that's your middle name," I said as I looked at her. She was bewildered as I continued, "Your name is Sarah, but you know that that would hurt John. It's fine, they all have heartbrake to deal with, John can deal," I explained.

"Sherlock fucking Holmes, eh? Well, there you go, Elizabeth is my middle name, and you're fantastic!" she exclaimed and I could tell an idea popped into her head as she stared at me, then John and me again. I eyed her as well, and wondered what she could be thinking about now.

But she just winked and our attention was turned to Gregory as he said, "I don't understand, how did you know it was her middle name?"

"Listen, Lestrade. You should have listened," I explained. "She paused, but shorter than if she was to make up another name. So, it was one she was familiar with, but not her first name. So it stands to reason, that Elizabeth is her middle name."

Then he went on into how the hell I knew that Sarah was her real name, "Because she hesitated and looked to John before she decided she would use her middle name, basically saying that she didn't want to upset him. She has a sailor's mouth, but she's not heartless. That job's already taken." Lestrade simply shook his head at how easy that sounded, and he couldn't get it.

It was easy, but Lestrade, like many others, is slow. "Okay, enough showing off, back to business now," John interrupted and we chose to take the discussion to important things instead of centering it around Rivera.

I don't care what her real name is, that one is pretty and she obviously likes, it. I couldn't even tell it wasn't her real name because she said it so fast. She probably had her friends call her that, but I don't blame her.

Sherlock isn't my first name, either…

* * *

Now that everything had been sorted. The jobs, the responsibilities and simply everything, we begged Mycroft to use the pool he had somewhere. I know he does, because he was bragging and it slipped. The Holmes have a thing for bragging without bragging. They mention one thing and it somehow spins off into their success.

It's brilliant, but I always know what they're doing. Especially Sherlock, I can always tell when he's about to spout and show off. But he's admirable anyway. I don't think anyone could say that he wasn't. Yes, he's an arse, and sometimes a dick, but he's got other good qualities, too. Just haven't found them..

But I know there has to be something. There' always something admirable to everyone. In his case, the only thing I can find is his looks. Especially without a shirt… anyway. I need to stop, there are pretty girls here, too. But why can I only stare at him?

I don't know, and I shook my head as his hips were in the warm water and Rivera let out a battle cry as she jumped on his back and they both flopped into the water. But they came up laughing, so I waded in and Molly ran and jumped from the edge, landing with a huge splash!

Anthea screamed as she was wet already and she didn't want to be yet, but Molly pulled on her hand and she tripped into the water, letting out a squeal before she flopped. I laughed as she resurfaced and tackled Molly in with her this time.

"Sherlock," I sang and he looked to me, his hair dripping. I laughed as the water I splashed made his face turn to a grin and he splashed back.

I moved close, which was my mistake, as he took by my neck and drug me under the water with him. I barely had time to ready myself before we both came back up and now I was soaked. Rivera, (I won't call her anything else, she obviously loves that name) was giggling when we came back up and Molly splashed her. She pretended to scoff like a popular girl and laughed as she returned the splash of liquid.

And then it was Gregory's turn, "Come on, idiot," Rivera chirped as he scowled at her. You could tell he didn't want to play games, he just wanted to be in the water. But I dashed his hopes as I yanked on his arm and stumbled down the steps and fell in face first.

He was glaring at me under the dripping hair and Mycroft shrugged, shoving him in again as he passed. But then Gregory smiled and pounced Mycroft from behind as they landed in the water and somehow splashed all of us.

"John," Sherlock purred in my ear and I jumped from how close he was, and he spilled out a plan into my ear as I nodded and grinned. "Hey, Rivera, come here," he waved and she tilted her head on confusion as I tried not to laugh.

"Sherlock has a question for you," I pointed as he smiled.

"Do you like hammocks?" he asked randomly. She rose a brow and nodded slowly and Sherlock motioned for me to grab her arms and we lift her from the water, his arms around her legs, and swing her twice before dropping her in. She was screaming but laughing.

She came back up and was laughing again as she went back under. What is she doing? And then I was swept from my feet and fell backwards into the water. I screamed as I plopped in again. But Sherlock pulled me up and Rivera was laughing at my face.

I was grinning, and Rivera knew why as Sherlock puzzled. But I was blushing a scarlet as he realized what he was doing, and let go of my hand before we all laughed. And there was giggling over there from Molly and Anthea and Gregory was laughing, as was Mycroft.

You know, Mycroft was opposed to this idea, and now he was laughing with the rest of us. But then suddenly Sherlock grabbed my hand again and I blushed again as he pulled me closer. "Think they would notice if we left?" he asked quietly. Rivera had gone back to torturing Anthea with splashes of water.

"Why?" I was confused and wondering what could be so important.

"I need to talk to you, alone," he said, that bored tone telling me it was important, and I nodded. Before I knew it he was pulling me into the small shower room and handed me a towel as we then travelled to the kitchen, where he was sure they wouldn't hear anything…

* * *

I needed to tell John how I was feeling. Because I was feeling. I've never felt this before for anyone, and I'm afraid of what he may say. I never had anything against relationships, and I always wondered whether I was to like being in one, but I still don't know. All I know is that this emotion needs to disappear, but I don't know how to make it do so.

I swear, if I act on it, I might as well be dead right then and there. I don't need romantic distractions, and I sure as hell don't need it to be… never you mind. But just know that I have a stupid emotion clouding my thoughts and it needs to dissipate.

"John," I started and he hummed as our towels were draped over the chair's seats and we sat. "I have this… thing, and I shouldn't have it, and it needs to go away. But I've never dealt with this.. thing before, and I don't exactly know how to erase such an emotion," I admitted.

"Emotion? I'm guessing you like someone, then?" he asked.

"Yes, and it could be problematic. But I know you deal with emotions every day. So, how do you ignore a… a 'crush'," I asked. This is so silly, but I need to know.

"Well, first of all, who is it that has the honour of being crushed on by Sherlock Holmes?" he asked and my face burned and I think I was blushing. Ugh…

* * *

**You Think it could be Molly? Honestly, I'm still deciding whether he wants her or John... But, in the meantime, reviews? **


	9. Eight

Eight

"Promise you won't judge me?" he asked and I pursed my lips, then flattened them.

"I promise, now just tell me," I demanded.

"I don't need to," he said as he got up from his chair and was standing over me. what is he…? And his lips were placed over mine. Okay, this is… new. Bu I've only known him for two days, how could he..? Oh God, he tastes so good.

I stood to meet him as he wrapped his arms around my waist and the sound of separation only brought us back together again. It sounded so good, almost as good as it felt. "Sher-," he cut me off with another kiss, "Sherlock," I panted.

I could tell he was annoyed, but he was listening as I continued, "What are you doing?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes, "Kissing you, stupid," and he did it again.

"I meant, where is this going?" I asked in confirmation.

"I honestly don't know, I'm just letting my body react to this. I've never really kissed someone I liked before," he explained and his lips were on mine once again. So soft, so… I can't stop. This was so different, yet it felt so familiar somehow.

I don't understand why I feel such a connection to this man, but I do. It's almost as if I know him, but I hardly know do at the same time. It confused me, but what didn't, was the feeling I got in my stomach as he was kissing me.

The butterflies seemed to flutter higher and higher to the point that I couldn't breathe, and it still felt so good…

* * *

Why did he have so much effect on me? I've kissed people before, but not like this. This was hot and I could barely breathe as his tongue traced my bottom lip and I let him in. I know a lot more about this man, but it still felt strange. Then again, it felt right.

It was almost as if I'd known him for so long and we were just now getting back together. And what was this feeling in my chest? Oh for God's sake, my heart's beating faster and I'm starting to shake. Then there's the blushing, and not just on my cheeks.

John chuckled against my lips as he realized what was happening to me, and to him. Like I said, I don't know why this effected me so much, as I've kissed people before. But this seemed to be so different. The same mechanics but a different reason and reaction entirely.

"John?" I asked. He hummed as his kisses drifted down. "How far _is_ this going to go?" I asked. He shrugged.

"As far as you like," he repeated. But what if I don't know how far I want it to go? But I didn't ask as his hands scaled my sides and brought us closer. I couldn't help the finger I hooked under his chin and the lips I placed to his.

And this finger, with the rest of my hand drifted to the nape of his neck, tipping his head so my tongue could get deeper, taste more. I want more. I stepped closer, pushing all of us together and I could feel him. He's definitely over Sarah now. Funny that all it took was my lips.

And even though we had just had our first kiss only minutes before, it didn't feel like the first. It felt as though we'd been doing this for so long and only just now got to each other again. I don't understand, and I pisses me off. But right now, I can't be pissed.

Especially when I have a sexy soldier attached to my lips, and the rest of me, as I had wrapped my arms around him. Again, it just felt right. I don't get why, but this was too familiar for it to have been our first time.

Even as he drug me to his room, it felt painfully familiar…

* * *

I rushed up the stairs so no one would see the things I want to do to him. He followed and I thrust him through my doorway, and slamming him into the wall and with my free hand closing the door.

The kisses weren't so new as they became heated and somehow, I knew what to do as my hand drifted over his groin. This was strange, as I was feeling him under me and it felt good, but somehow the same as something before. But I couldn't name what this was.

I ignored the internal questions of mine as his tongue filled my mouth and his cock filled my hand. He was really warm, and he shivered when I shoved my hand past the barrier of swimming trunks. "John," he whispered into my ear.

"Sh," I kissed and nibbled at his earlobe. He simply accepted as he kept shivering and I kept stroking and slightly pulling as I pumped…

* * *

At first no one had noticed when Sherlock and John had disappeared. But when they looked for them, they then realized that the doctor and the detective were not in the pool anymore. But everyone also knew where they were and what they were doing. And when they heard a scream they knew, but it was in pleasure and very awkward to hear.

Especially when they were actually about half of the house away from John's room. But now that they knew what was happening, they all retreated to the garden just outside of the pool and occupied themselves with many other things.

They even had a heated discussion about games and old movies and things that they loved when there weren't zombies roaming. They actually had fun knowing that there was love filling the air, and they were talking and enjoying time.

The zombies didn't help anyone's mood, but the talking did. The talk of old friends and a little of family. But that quickly turned to other things, as that was bound to make someone cry. Rivera was close to tears as Molly was rubbing her back.

But when the subject turned, she was okay and they were all laughing and smiling again in no time. Even Mycroft enjoyed sitting in the grass and having Gregory's head laying in his lap as he stroked the silver hair from his face.

Anthea was smiling and Molly was grinning as Rivera was giggling. Now they had two gay couples in the mansion. Who was next to turn out gay? They didn't know, honestly. But laughter broke out once more when they heard a muffled scream again.

* * *

John was panting as he collapsed down beside and half on top of me. That was definitely different, as I had never even had sex before. At all. But again, it felt so familiar, it felt good. I always thought it would hurt, but it didn't.

And I could tell John enjoyed it, even though it was man he just had sex with, he loved it. He kissed my chest and I looked down on him, smiling as his lips met mine. "Shower?" I asked and he nodded.

We stumbled into a bathroom as he looked down on himself. It was pretty funny to see his eyes widen at me being left on his hand. But I pulled him under the warm water and he hummed at how good it felt. And then he was pushing me against the wall…

* * *

They figured it was safe now as they heard nothing from John's room and they were in the main room once more. Gregory was upon Mycroft's lap and Molly and Anthea were still talking as Rivera went to the fridge and plucked the milk from the shelf.

She was going to just chug, but then she remembered, and she used a cup instead. But she still gave herself half a brain-freeze chugging it. She shook it from her head as she plopped down on the couch beside Anthea and Molly talking and giggling.

And then John was giggling as he descended the stairs and Sherlock had latched onto him, hugging him from behind and keeping as they hobbled down. Luckily they were fully clothed, as the rest of the group was eyeing them.

They quit and Sherlock detached himself as they asked, "What?" and everyone broke out in laughter.

Molly replied, "I told you so," and Anthea nodded as she looked to them. Rivera grinned, as she had been thinking that, too. "But we should get dressed, and showered for that matter," she suggested.

"Yes," Mycroft agreed, there are three showers, and I already know who I'm sharing with," he smiled.

"We'll just rotate, thanks," Anthea said for the three girls. Rivera nodded as she said, "Rivera goes first, and Molly gets the third shower. I'll just wait for one to come down," she explained and they all agreed.

And Anthea was alone with the new couple. But she simply dug out her mobile from upstairs and was typing as she descended. She took a spot on the couch again as Sherlock and John had settled…

* * *

Sherlock had pulled me down beside him and stroked my thigh as I leaned into him. I had my hand upon his chest and I could feel his heartbeat as I smiled. Anthea sat beside us again, but we didn't move.

I could tell she was smirking as she typed. I don't even know what she's doing, but I don't much care. The man I'm leaning into is far more important than anything else at the moment. I wonder if they could the loudest of the screams that came from us?

Anthea cleared her throat, "We did hear you, by the way. It was twice and it was kinda funny," she admitted, but her eyes were fixed on the screen. I blushed, so they did hear some of it. At least they didn't hear the things we said to each other, that was the best part.

I loved Sherlock's voice whispering to me things he wanted to do to me, or vice versa. I wonder how it felt to being his position, but I'm sure I'll find out soon enough, as he had said that wasn't the end of our sexual adventure.

I believe him, too. He is a very fast learner by the way. Either that, or he's feeling the way I am, that this is painfully familiar. And him stroking my thigh only makes it more obvious that somehow, I know him, his touch, his kiss.

I wanted to say I love him, but that would push it, and it'd be weird to fall in love with someone just in two days. And upon looking at him, I almost do say it. And then Rivera comes down the stairs, and Anthea walks up.

Rivera strokes at her now wet and long hair that reached the small of her back, and she seemed interested in it somehow. But then she dropped it as she looked to us. She smiled, and I'm guessing she knows exactly what happened when we left the water. But then again, everyone knows now.

She looked to the floor and then it looked like an idea clouded her head, and then it was confirmed as she asked for paper and a pencil. And, "No pens, I hate pens," she explained.

"Why?" I asked.

"They're too permanent," she explained once more.

"Remember John, I did say she was a sketch artist," and she blushed.

"I wouldn't say artist, but I do try," she said. And suddenly Sherlock was gone and running to a door that had stairs in it, and they lead downward. And soon he descended them and when he came back up, he was holding something.

This something was a book of some kind, and pencils. "Here," he handed them to her, "I haven't used them in years and I figure you'll put them to good use," he said and she had wide eyes as she took them.

And then she latched into Sherlock, thanking him a million times over as she plopped on the couch and suddenly her smile faded into concentration. She was still happy, I could tell that, but she was focused as she opened the book and her pencil hit the page in seconds.

She definitely had an idea. Sherlock sat by me and as I stared at her paper, he whispered, "Stop staring, she doesn't like it," he explained as I started staring at him.

* * *

I could tell by the way her smile had dropped that she was focused and she wouldn't be leaving that pose until she was finished. And the way her brow furrowed just a bit when John stared, told me he should stop, and I told him as much.

But when Molly and Anthea finally joined us, and Lestrade and Mycroft had as well, she was just finishing. Her concentration was almost smeared by the people watching, but she managed to finish and she was about to run up to her room when Molly asked to see it.

She at first declined, saying, "It's not that good," but they pushed her into letting them see what took her only about forty-five minutes. And soon enough it was passed around the whole group until it reached John.

They all congratulated her, and John stared with wide eyes, as he discovered what the picture was…


	10. Nine

Nine

It was us, on the couch, from her perspective. It wasn't perfect and I could tell she was irritated it wasn't, but it was pretty damn close.

She got our faces perfectly and our build, and the shadows were immaculate, but somehow that wasn't good enough for her. It even looked a little three dimensional, but only a… oh! That was what was wrong with it.

"You'll get better with practice, don't worry," I assured her and John was confused as to why I hadn't said it was amazing. But she was relieved to see that someone finally understood.

"It's not completely three dimensional, and I've been working on it for about a year now, and I still can't get it to look right," she explained as she swiped the book from John's hands. "But I do a lot of things, people, animals, landscapes, anything really," she shrugged.

I rose my brows at John and he rolled his eyes at me. "Okay, so you were right. But why did she have to draw us?" he complained when she was up the stairs.

"Because you two are adorable," Anthea said with a straight face. I'm glad she had an answer, because mine wasn't that good of one.

"But I don't understand, why didn't she draw someone else?" John asked. And Anthea repeated herself as he gave up, huffing as he leaned back into me again. And he rested his head on my chest as he looked up at me.

I gave him an upside down kiss before he was satisfied and settled. Rivera came marching down the stairs again as she suggested, "Can we just go back outside and sit in the garden and eat lunch?"

* * *

I second that notion. I haven't seen the garden yet, and I'm hungry. Especially with the fun time I've been having. Sherlock agreed as the rest of us simply got up and I went to the kitchen. Sherlock followed as he asked what I was making.

I honestly don't know, depends on what we have. "Dunno, what does your brother have in the kitchen?" I asked. He hugged me from behind as I placed my hands over his and he hummed in thought.

"Last time I checked," he started…

* * *

They had all agreed to let John and Sherlock take over the kitchen as they went back to the garden. This was their favorite place now, definitely. The flowers were still blooming as they sat in the grass.

The smell of the pool was undetectable as they laughed and talked and all at the same time they wondered what Sherlock and John were doing in the kitchen. "Hopefully only cooking…" Rivera giggled as the rest of them joined in laughter.

But Mycroft and Greg couldn't much judge, because they hadn't only taken a shower. But they still enjoyed joking about the adorable couple in the kitchen. "But seriously, though. Does anyone else agree that John is just the cutest little thing?" Rivera asked.

Molly nodded and Anthea smiled as Mycroft and Gregory smiled at each other. "Mhm," Molly agreed, and continued, "and Sherlock is just sexy," and Rivera laughed.

"Yes," she giggled. "They're adorable together," she nudged at Molly and whispered so only Molly could hear, "I think you should try Anthea," she pointed as Anthea was staring in confusion.

Molly blushed, "No," she said quietly, but everyone could hear her. "That wouldn't work," she admitted what she was thinking.

"And just why not?" Rivera asked aloud, and then whispered, "Haven't you seen the way she looks at you?" Molly just shook her head, her pony tail swishing behind her. "Okay, but when… never mind," she shook her head and simply smiled as everyone was confused. But then Mycroft understood and he smiled as well.

Anthea and Molly. Not exactly what was in mind, but okay… Anthea deserves to be happy, and dear God, Molly needed someone. And I guess Rivera saw that. "But you know, if that does happen," Mycroft started, knowing what the quiet conversation was about, "what about you, then? You don't have anyone," he pointed out.

"Never needed anyone, and I don't need anyone now," Rivera explained and her smile faded a little, but she was still smirking when Molly looked to her in surprise.

She was about to question when Sherlock and John walked out and Sherlock explained for her, "Rivera has a certain complex that allows her to love, but she doesn't exactly need someone," he sat and placed the plate of sandwiches in the grass.

"I'm the same way, it's just that I never realized until…" he left that open and John blushed as Sherlock pulled him down into his lap.

* * *

Hearing Sherlock explained us was amazing, as I knew he didn't really have an interest in Molly and therefore I figured he wouldn't have any interest in me, either, but now look. Rivera just smiled her thanks as everyone took a sandwich.

Sherlock and I couldn't decide on anything else, so we settled on something simple that we knew everyone would eat. And they were gone before Sherlock and I finished ours. I forced Sherlock to eat, and he hated it, but he reluctantly did.

Mycroft was almost forced to as well, but he sensed Gregory was going to do the same as I had done, and he simply ate. But he was smirking the whole time and Sherlock was just pouting. But when I tackled him into the grass and gave him kisses all over, he calmed and laughed a little.

I could tell that everyone was staring at us, and when we sat up, they pretended they weren't. But they really have no room to judge, as Mycroft and Gregory are in a relationship, and I swear there's something going on between Molly and Anthea.

Just the looks Anthea gives her. I haven't seen her really look at anyone, especially the way she was staring now. Like she wants to kiss her, but she can't. Well, she could, but the look she's giving say she thinks she can't. The look I used to give Sherlock.

And he even asked, "Why is she looking at Molly like that?" he gestured.

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like you used to look at me," he confirmed and I whispered to him what I thought on that one. Sherlock nodded as I finished and Anthea and Molly stared at us. As did the rest of the group. "Since when were we the attraction of attention?" he asked them.

"Since you got together," they all said. Literally, and almost in perfect unison. It was a little creepy, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

But I turned to him and automatically we were laying in the grass and I was on him, kissing him senseless. I know everyone's looking and I don't care. I'm not sure he does either as he was participating and our tongues met in the silence that fell.

* * *

Anthea couldn't help staring at Molly and her hair and those lovely eyes. Molly caught her staring as her eyes wandered to Molly's thin lips. Molly blushed as Anthea realized she had been getting stared at as well. And she looked into those deep green eyes, and smiled.

Rivera decided she would go back inside as she caught the drift that everyone had someone and she was alone. But it was always like this and as she walked away, those kisses were what she was smiling at.

She was glad everyone finally had someone and she was actually a little glad she didn't have anyone. She wouldn't have someone that would mourn her more than usual. She knew what it was like to cry over a death of someone important, and it didn't feel too good, so why would she do that to someone else?

It was evident that she would die at some point, so why bother? So as she stomped up the stairs, she was smiling and she plopped down on her bed and wondered when something fun would happen.

It was kinda boring right now. And then she got an idea for another picture and picked up her new sketch book. She still loved Sherlock for that gift. She had never been given a sketch book. She always had to buy them herself.

Granted, she always bought them anyway, it was still nice to know someone cared. Even if they were an arse. But he was dating the cutest and sweetest man, so she couldn't really say much. She loved that everyone had someone.

So as her pencil hit the page in loving strokes, she was happy as she could be in this mess of bullshit. And then there was the banging on the door that woke her from her concentration. So she stomped down the stairs and it was consistent as she could tell it wasn't a zombie.

So then who the hell would it be now? And as she opened the door, her eyes widened and her mouth split into the most pleased grin she's given since she came to this mansion…


	11. Ten

Ten

"R-Rivera?" his amethyst eyes sparkled under that midnight black hair and she almost cried as she hugged him tighter than ever.

"Get in here before you die," she joked and pulled him through the door. "Simon, um, I have something to tell you," she admitted. He was confused as she gave up, "Or I could just show you," she suggested and he was still confused.

But when he started to realize, her lips landed on his and he wrapped his arms around her, propping her on his waist and she welcomed his embrace. Oh, this was waited for, and well deserved as Rivera had been waiting for a year for him to notice this.

The feelings she had towards him. Guess I should introduce him to you, huh? Well, this is Simon and he's really tall, but she's just tall enough to reach his lips with hers. And this was the boy she had been crushing on all of 9th grade.

And they had been the best of friends, and of course, she grew attached. And Sherlock was right when he said she was capable of love, but she didn't need it. Which was why she simply waited for him to show her he liked he back with more than shy flirting.

And now that the zombie apocalypse had hit while she was vacationing, she swore that the next time she saw him, she would do this. So, here she was, kissing the boy she loved more than anything. And when he dropped her and they separated, he smiled, "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted.

"Why didn't you?" she asked as he blushed at his answer.

"I thought you liked Brianna, I didn't want to get in the way of you two."

She rolled her eyes and he laughed at himself for being so stupid. "So, how did you get here?" she asked, finally having her head.

"Remember when I said I was going on vacation," he explained. And she laughed.

"Where? I was on vacation here as well," she explained.

"Ah! Small world, I was in London and then these fucks started biting and I left my hotel room," he smiled. "But if it got me closer to you, I'm glad I was caught in this," he grinned and kissed her again. "What of your family?" he finally asked.

"You know what," she said as her smile dropped.

"Oh, I… I'm so sorry. I didn't realize," his head dropped, "I'm such an idiot." She hugged him, mumbling that that was why she loved him and he smiled again, hugging her back as a strange man walked in holding another's hand.

* * *

I took one good look at the boy she was hugging and I could definitely say that he was attractive, and he was obviously someone she knew. "Who's this, then?" I asked as Sherlock looked to me and then her.

"It's kinda funny, because he was doing the same as I was, and then he ended up here." She gestured for him to meet us properly and he did. His eyes widened when he heard our names. And that was when the rest of the group walked in and said theirs and he grinned.

"Since when did you know them?" he asked, grabbing her by the waist.

"Since I survived zombies long enough to get here," she said as if it was obvious. "And again, it's not just me that read your blog," she said to me. I smiled, apparently not.

"So, it this disaster just in London?" he asked. We all nodded, and he ran his fingers through his hair. "How, though?" he then asked.

"We don't know exactly, but we figure it was that they cut it off just in time. So we've been talking and we were planning a 'daring' escape," Sherlock explained and rolled his eyes at that description.

Mycroft joined in explaining everything we had been discussing and I could tell he was amazed with the ability that Sherlock possessed when it came to deducing this boy. And he finally said, "My name is Simon," and he was grinning.

So anyway, back to the daring escape that was bound to work…

* * *

"Okay, so well know what's going to happen?" I confirmed and they all nodded as the door burst open and Molly seized her car from outside and Sherlock and I took Rivera and Simon as Molly and Anthea got stuck with Mycroft and Gregory.

We were to seek out another vehicle in the area, as we had seen one close to here somewhere and Molly was taking Anthea and the rest to the border of the city where we decided we would meet. And I have to say, even Simon was showing off as we finally reached that abandoned car we had found a few days before.

We really lucked out when there was gas in it, and the keys were hanging in the ignition. Sherlock turned them as everyone climbed in and he sped off. He was the one who knew where the location was, so he was the one to drive.

We had been waiting for weeks planning this, and finally it came time and we were more ready than we had been for any of this. It was nice to finally have hope that this was going to end…

But my vision started fading as I started remembering. Not hallucinating, definitely not. It was a huge head ache, and then I started getting flashes of my past. And it was all with Sherlock. I didn't understand until I passed out…

* * *

"Sherlock!" I woke up on a bed in a white room. I was so confused as wires pulled at my skin and I pulled them from me. But Mycroft walked in, telling me that I shouldn't be pulling on them. and he removed them for me. "Where is Sherlock?"I yelled.

He rolled his eyes as Sherlock burst through the door, "John! Oh my God, I thought I lost you!" he said and he hugged me as he pulled me from the bed. Mycroft scoffed as I wrapped my legs around him.

"Sherlock, what was that?" I asked and Mycroft had our attention as he explained.

"It was a simulator," he said. And he explained the science behind it as Sherlock just shrugged.

But I had to ask then, "Then who were Rivera and Simon?"

"Figments of technology," he said, and he also said, "So was I, technically. I wasn't there, but it was pretty easy to fake me. And, the rest of the group should be waking up soon," he said as he led us from this horrid room and I clutched Sherlock's hand.

"Why did you put us in a simulator?" I asked, suddenly getting pissed.

"I had a theory and I tested it, plain and simple," he explained and Sherlock narrowed his eyes, asking what this theory was. And he sighed, admitting, "I wanted to see if what you two said was true. That even if you didn't know each other, you would still fall in love all over again. I am sorry that I doubted you," he apologized.

"You wanted to know if… really?!" I yelled and Sherlock told me to calm down, rubbing my back. But my anger was seething, "You ripped us from our lives and threw us into an apocalypse to test some petty theory?!"

But Sherlock grabbed me by my arms and held me close, "Please stop it, John. Don't you see? This is a good thing," he said and I screamed, asking how?! And he said simply, "Because we were right. I love you, and I always will. And apparently," he didn't finish as I kissed him.

All my anger dissipated as I realized he was right. He was always right, "I love you," and his lips were mine. He accepted this and our tongues met and I remembered how good this felt, and it was so much better now.

Now that I knew this was real and that was fake, I want him again and we rushed from the house and to our flat. Mycroft was about to question, but then he realized what was going on and as we called a cab, he smiled.

I climbed in and Sherlock followed as I was leaning on him again and he was whispering things in my ear, but that was okay, because I was whispering things back…

* * *

Molly woke to have Anthea sitting over her and she smiled as Anthea was removing the wires. "It's okay now, we're safe," she assured the woman throwing loving looks to her.

When she was disconnected, "I thought I was going to die," she sobbed, but managed to smile as Anthea pulled her in for a kiss. When their tongues slid together, they both hummed in content, and Molly was crying harder.

"Don't cry, love," Anthea swiped at her cheeks. "It's okay now. Do you want me to prove it?" she asked as she helped Molly down from the table.

"How could you prove it?" Molly asked, sniffling and still shaking as Anthea led her through the big house and up the stairs. She pushed Molly into her room and pressed her gently to the wall, snogging her properly as her hands slid to Molly's hips.

She closed the door as Molly grinned at the realiztion that she meant she would prove it through this moment, and she was okay with that…

* * *

Rivera woke and Mycroft was standing above her, "Where's Simon?" she asked and Mycroft smiled. Simon walked from behind him and Rivera smiled. "You told them we were part of the simulation, didn't you?" Mycroft nodded, "Good," she said and Simon hugged her.

She hopped from the table and Mycroft led them to the streets where he hailed a cab and gave them cash and they were off back to their home. Well, the orphanage that they called home, but it was warm all the same.

When they stepped through the door, the little children greeted them with open arms and some cried at how long they had been gone. And Rivera let happy tears flow as Simon hugged her tight and kissed them away.

She finally smiled as their 'mother' approached. "You know, if I ever adopted you two, it'd get real awkward real fast," she joked and Rivera hugged her.

"Yeah, we know," she chuckled and Simon simply had a hand on her back as Rivera grinned. But she couldn't help it. She had met Sherlock Holmes and found a new home here. Here, as in away from America where her family had been brutally murdered. But that was in the past as she had Simon and her mother and the little kids that adored the hell out of her.

She was happy, for all it was worth. And she knew she had to get back to school tomorrow, and she was fine with that. Especially since Simon was going back with her.

All in all, this was a happy ending. There was none of her biological family left, but she was happy and she knew that that family was watching over her and she knew they would want this. they would want her to be happy.

And even though it was just a simulator, she was glad to finally meet her idols, her heroes. And she was right, they would be brilliant in a zombie apocalypse. She was also glad that Mycroft had agreed to let Simon in the simulator with her.

She was getting lonely and she knew she would need him at some point, even if she didn't remember that they weren't about to die, she still would have wanted Simon. Or anyone, really to love her and tell her it was okay.

Which now, it wasn't, but she could tell it was going to be. And the people at school did question why she had been gone for a month, but she simply said she had been vacationing. And it was the truth, as she had been taking a break from life an loving in a place of imagination…

* * *

**So yeah, how did you like the end of that one? As in, reviews? ... :-)**


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